Double, Double, Toil and Trouble
by Chaos-Rose
Summary: Fred and George Weasley handed in the wrong lab journal and must now face the consequences. Chapter 4 is (finally) up! In this bit: A meeting of minds and an unholy alliance.
1. Double, Double, Toil and Trouble Chapter...

Title: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble. 

Author: Chaos Rose

E-mail: lady_rosa_chaotica@yahoo.com

Rating: R for language in future chapters.

Category: Humor and only humor.

Summary: Fred and George hand in the wrong lab journal and must now face the consequences – and so must Snape. 

Author's Note: I am posting this mostly in hopes that my readers would give me a push in the proper direction with this tale. Since I'm working on a few different stories at once, I may not be able to update as often as I like. 

~

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

Chapter One

~

Fred and George Weasley - normally the most boisterous and gregarious of the Weasley clan - were dramatically not so on a fine spring morning. 

Home from Hogwarts for the Easter holidays, both were pale, jumpy and generally far too quiet. Molly Weasley had poured Pepper-Up potion down their throats, checked their brows for signs of fever and in general done all the things a mother is to do when her children are ailing. Ginny could only say that they seemed to have been suddenly taken ill on the train platform while boarding - but had been keen to get home and would not hear of going back to the school. 

The rambling house was quiet with only Ginny and her middle-born boys at home. Bill and Charlie were away in Egypt and Romania - respectively going about their vocations. Percy was most often sleeping in his office and home only on weekends - with his laundry and an appetite. Ron was staying over at Hogwarts with Harry and had owled that Harry ought to be allowed to come to the Burrow for the holidays.

_"The only way he could be more family is if his hair went red, Mum. Please talk Dumbledore out of sending him back to those horrid Dursleys!"_

Though Molly agreed, Arthur said that Dumbledore had his reasons and though they might ask that Harry be allowed to come, they should not press. 

The sun was low in the east when Molly finished her baking, the scents of cinnamon, vanilla and apples rising up the stairs to pull her children and husband from slumber. Ginny was the first one down, her coltish body still clumsy with sleep. Arthur followed, eyes closed and homing in on the table by scent alone. 

The boys took some more time to show up, and neither of them looked well rested. Dark blue-grey circles hollowed their eyes, and they were distinctly twitchy. What was even worse, they picked at their food.

Molly was now seriously alarmed. They must be horribly ill! 

She stood and moved for the fireplace - intending to call the local witch doctor and asking him to make a house call - when the silence was broken by a thunder of wings. 

A large black owl - with a wingspan easily five feet across - clutching a flat, rectangular package in its talons dove through the open window and backwinged to a landing in the middle of the kitchen table. Standing with wings spread to show a white star on its keelbone, the sleek creature mantled and peered about, hooting softly.

"Hullo, Polaris." Ginny greeted the owl with breakfast sausage, "What're you doing so far from home?"

"You know this magnificent creature, Gin?" Arthur offered another sausage and the owl accepted with a demeanor that suggested that the food and admiration were only due. "Whose is he?"

"She, Dad, and Polaris is Professor Snape's owl." Ginny carefully bribed the package away from the owl with another sausage. "And this is for... Fred and George?"

Both Fred and George looked about to heave up as Ginny turned the package to face the other occupants of the room. Across the brown paper in an angular, slashing script was -

**From: Prof. S.N. Snape - Master of Potions**

**           Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**To: Messrs. Frederick and George Weasley**

**       The Burrow**

**       Ottery St. Catchpole**

Fred actually buried his head in his arms and whimpered. George simply sat as if he'd glimpsed Medusa. 

Ginny pulled out her wand out of her robe pocket and gently tapped the precise knots of twine with a muttered, "_Solomonica." The wrapping unfolded in neat creases, revealing a blue-covered book. Something suspiciously like a sob came from Fred's folded arms, along with a babbled string of words along the lines of 'drawn and quartered' and 'fed to the squid.' _

George reached for the book as if it was likely to turn into a dementor at any second - his reach was intercepted by that of his mother, who finally had an inking about what all this was about. "Is this about your marks? Are you failing Potions?"

"Professor Snape asked for our laboratory journals at the end of term, Mum," Ginny offered. "He was going to grade them and give them back after the break."

"Why would he send it back so early, though?" Arthur peered over Molly's shoulder, "Severus is very methodical and I can't see him sending this back so soon."

Molly opened the cover and a pair of envelopes fluttered to the tabletop. One was thick cream-colored paper, addressed to 'Master and Mistress Arthur Weasley.' The other was a crimson parchment sealed with a blob of garnet wax that resembled a blood clot and was addressed simply to 'You Two.'

It lay on the table smoking slightly, and occasionally spit sparks. Arthur looked grim as he broke the seal on the white envelope, Molly furious as she clutched the journal in a white-knuckled grip. 

"Best to get it over with. I don't even want to imagine what would happen if you were to ignore this one,"

Ginny said, buttering a muffin. "You know what a temper he has."

With the air of the condemned, George broke the seal on the envelope - which was now leaking flames - and it rose into the air, levitating on the sheer fury of the author. Snape's voice roared at one hundred times normal volume, rattling the plates and startling the ghoul in the attic to respectful silence. 

"IN ALL MY YEARS OF TEACHING --- GOOD LORD, IS _THIS WHAT YOU'VE BEEN DOING WITH YOUR TIME --- AN INSULT --- AN OUTRAGE --- IF YOU CAN MANAGE _THIS_ YOU CAN MANAGE A LOT MORE THAN WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN SCRAPING BY ON --- SHOULD SET AN EXAMPLE FOR YOUR YOUNGER SIBLINGS --- NEVER HAD THIS KIND OF TROUBLE WITH WILLIAM, CHARLES OR PERCIVAL --- LAZY --- DISRESPECTFUL --- DILATORY --- POSTER CHILDREN FOR CORPORAL PUNISHMENT --- DETENTION UNTIL YOU'RE THIRTY --- OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED --- HUNG AGAINST A DUNGEON WALL BY YOUR TOES --- A MAJOR COURSE REVISION --- HEADMASTER DUMBLEDORE, PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL  --- WILL MAKE SURE THAT YOU PASS YOUR NEWTS WITH THE MARKS WHICH YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY CAPABLE OF ATTAINING IF I HAVE TO GRIND YOU TO POWDER TO DO IT AND THAT IS FINAL!"_

The envelope exploded in purple flames so hot that there was not even ash left, leaving only ringing silence in its wake. 

~

TBC


	2. Double, Double, Toil and Trouble Chapter...

Dear Readers, 

Thank you for all the kind words, and I am so pleased that you enjoyed the first chapter so much! I hope this bit meets with your approval as well. 

I'll be keeping the chapters short until I know where the tale is going, but hope to update about every two weeks. I've got several story-brews going and am trying to update at least one every week. Please let me know what you think!

If you are reading my other tales:

My AU Star Wars fic, 'Some Other Future's Past' received a major update last week. 

'The Warming Potion Incident' has an update in the works - give me a week or so to work out the tics and twitches. Snape is going to have a very rough year…

'Like Cats and Dogs' should have a new bit up by tonight (Sunday) or tomorrow. The new bit earns its R rating, so please read the author's note in the header.

Thanks, all!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble.

Chapter 2

~

The entire countryside seemed to be holding silence. Even the garden gnomes peeked warily out of the peony bushes, whispering amongst themselves. Inside the Burrow, Fred and George sat with milk-pale faces and the dread expressions of men about become the guests of honor at a hanging. Ginny continued to alternate bites of her breakfast with feeding Polaris, who had moved her perch to the back of the girl's chair. 

Arthur and Molly were still deeply absorbed in Snape's letter, with Molly wringing the blue-covered book in her hands and shooting baleful looks at her sons. 

At length, Arthur carefully folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. "Well. He does have a terrible temper, but he also has some very valid points. Molly, could I see the journal, please?"

If possible, the twin's pallor deepened as their mother and father opened the book. From the look of it, it was a normal students composition book – sold five for two Sickles at any Knut-and-Sickle store. On the inside, the writing and diagrams were seemingly what one might expect from any laboratory journal. Written in black ink, formulae, diagrams, lists of materiel, procedures, and notes in careful script filled the pages top to bottom. 

Intermixed with the black ink and careful writing, was an angular but devastatingly legible script in blood-red ink. Note after note, angry red arrows, in some cases even entire sheets of parchment had been inserted into the journal. 

"Yes. Well. I can quite see his point." Arthur murmured.

Molly glared at her boys and then at the journal, and then at the boys once more. "As can I. Merlin's beard! What he must have thought when he opened that journal and saw 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' instead of the school work you were supposed to be doing…!"

"But Mum…" Fred began, weakly.

"Not a word!" Molly's pointed finger silenced the boy as effectively as a drawn wand. "You're the luckiest children in the world that Professor Snape recognizes your talent and - instead of failing the both of you as you deserved - he and the other teachers you have so disrespected are going to give you a second chance."

"Teachers?" George choked.

"Yes, plural. Severus apparently brought this to the attention of Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Vector, Binns, Sinistra, and a few others - not to mention to Dumbledore himself." Arthur picked up the brown paper wrapping and folded the book back into it, retying the precise knots with every care. "With the headmaster's approval, Professors Snape and McGonagall have arrived at a course of study for you that they feel will get you past your NEWTs with high marks."

"Honestly, I can understand wanting to open a joke shop, boys, but if you don't show people that you can at least finish school, who would want to invest?" Molly scolded, "He's doing you a favor, but there are some points I want to clear up with him. I know he has the tendency to speak in very strong terms…"

"Better you go then, Molly dear. Young Severus and I have something of a history." Arthur raised an eyebrow. "He and that… rowdy… crowd over on Vertic Alley when he was just out of school, I told you about some of the… goings on."

Molly's face turned nearly as red as her hair. "Oh, I'd forgotten about that. No, he might not be glad to see you at all after… the Incident."

"What incident, Mum? Was Professor Snape in trouble?" Ginny's voice rose almost gleefully on the last word. "He's so buttoned up! What did he do?"

Even Fred and George found this a distraction from their troubles - the buttoned up Potions Master hanging with a bunch of rowdies and getting in hack with the Ministry? 

Arthur cleared his throat, ears turning pink. "Nothing you need to know! It was a long time ago, and anyway… ah… you don't need to know."

~

The Hogsmeade local was a rather relaxing trip for Molly. For so long, everywhere she went there was babe, child, husband or some combination of same with her. Now with all of her younger ones in school and her three older boys on their own, she had all the time she had ever dreamed of as a young mother – and no idea what to do with it. 

A faint blush stained her cheeks. That last statement was not strictly true – she and Arthur had plenty of ideas – but one could not do that all the time and anyway, Arthur had to work.

"Hogsmeade! All change! All change!"

Walking down the platform, memories pressed in on all sides. Herself as a wide-eyed eleven-year-old, staring about in wonder. Older, and holding hands with Arthur, then a lanky young man with a thick shock of deep red hair. Freshly graduated, worrying about wedding plans – and if the math was correct, three weeks pregnant with Bill. So much of who she was had its roots here, in Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts, that it was hard not to feel the strong pull of time. 

At the carriage stand, she waited in a short queue before climbing in and simply saying, "To the School, please."

Even the ride up brought back memories – good and bad. The sick terror when they thought Ginny was dead, joy at being asked to attend the Tri-Wizard Tournament as Harry's family and the terrible pain that followed, the graduation ceremonies of Bill, Charlie, and Percy. 

All too soon, she was walking up the great steps and into the ancient stone of Hogwarts, and trying to remember that she was a grown woman with grown children. The school was quiet and the hall deserted but for the dour Master Filch, the caretaker. As hard as he was on the students, the grizzled man was polite to her and escorted her to Professor Snape's office before going to fetch the man himself.

Severus had come to Hogwarts after Molly and Arthur had graduated – all she knew of him was second hand, but he was reputed to have the temper of a dragon with the pip. It seemed to be something of a trait among Potions Masters – Snape's predecessor, Professor Thirlwall, had been a thoroughgoing son of a bitch. Brilliant, but still a son of a bitch.

The office was much as it had been in Molly's time – jars of things one did not look at closely lined the walls, books and journals piled on tables, shelves and in stacks on the floor. The eroded carvings on the lintels and embrasures had been discomfiting students since Salazar Slytherin's day. There were a few personal touches about the room, a coffer here, a pair of deep wing chairs in front of the bare fireplace, professional credentials and accolades – but no family portraits or anything that might give a clue as to the occupant's personality. 

Molly would just have to go on what she knew and improvise the rest. She had seen the man, but never actually met him – she had little to go on.

The door opened, admitting Snape in a swirl of black robes and Molly knew that there were going to be problems. 

Molly sighed in the privacy of her own head – _Here we go. Another pure-blood with his bits in a twist._

TBC


	3. Double, Double, Toil and Trouble Chapter...

Dear readers,

First of all, thank you for all the feedback and crit, as well as for your patience. I'm sorry that updates are so few and far between but I was really stumped for a bit. 

Writer's Block = Bad Thing!

Here is the next bit, where we hear from the miscreants themselves, specifically George.

I hope that you all enjoy, and please let me know what you think!  
  


Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

Chapter 3

~

It had been their own fault, really. 

Their Potions lab journal and the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes book looked alike on purpose - as they often worked on both simultaneously when in class. In the hurly-burly to get good and gone for the hols either Fred or George – they were still arguing about that one - had dropped the wrong one on Snape's desk. 

They had realized this only hours later. George had opened the book to a dog-eared page to check an ingredient for a candy that would dye the consumer in alternating stripes of color. 

His scream of horror brought half of Gryffindor running. 

Fred had been quick to pass it off as a joke he'd played on his brother, who needed three shots of contraband firewhiskey just to achieve minimal coherence. 

"Snape. Die. Die. Die. Wrong book. Die. Die. Die."

Fred medicated himself with a like amount of firewhiskey and, once he stopped shaking so hard his teeth chattered, the two of them had sat down to formulate a plan. They could go to Snape and tell the truth - that they had handed in the wrong journal – but if the man were to see what they had been spending time on…

They visualized it. 

It was traumatic for something hypothetical. 

They could try to steal the journal back and replace it with the correct one but - as if being redheaded twins wasn't conspicuous enough - Gryffindors spent as little time as possible in the dungeons. Snape might give them detention for breathing incorrectly or deduct house points for sloppy posture. The man was a terror. 

It thus fell to leverage. Amongst their clientele were all sorts from all four houses, many of who paid quite well and kept very quiet. What they needed was someone who owed them a favor, who was often about the dungeons, was sneaky and well practiced at general thievery. 

Such as someone, who – just hypothetically, mind – had managed a trip to Knockturn Alley for certain ingredients in exchange for a percentage of net profit on a certain product. No matter who his father was the boy would be so deeply in hack that he might not see sunlight again until his thirtieth birthday. 

So, they went and put it to him. 

"That's blackmail!"

"Such an ugly word for it."

"We prefer 'extortion.' "

Still, the party in question fit the bill perfectly. A Slytherin, therefore eternally in the dungeons, with Snape as Head of House. A top potions student in his year, therefore much in the same area as their book. A crack little thief, as sneaky as fog, and possessed not only of a set of unequaled lock picks but an actual Hand of Glory. 

"If I get it, I'll meet you on the platform with it. Snape's wards are top notch, not to mention all the damned locks I'll have to pick."

The hours passed as trunks were packed and taken down to the Great Hall and the students began to assemble for departure. The ride to the station was torture, with _Tranquilatis_ charms needed to calm George's hyperventilating.

On the platform, there was no sign of their ferret. Indeed, he did not show until the last whistle sounded. Ginny came looking for them just as the boy passed them, pressing a note into Fred's hand without even a blink before getting aboard. George turned sheet-white and nearly went to his knees, Ginny catching him around the waist before he could hit the pavement.

Ginny helped George into the train just as the last whistle sounded, telling Fred to get the lead out and what is the matter with you? Fred boarded behind his brother and sister and lagged behind to read the note.

Dear Weasels:

****

Snape, fine. McGonagall, fine. But both at once? No chance. Not even Loki himself in an invisibility cloak with a Hand of Glory stuffed up his arse could manage it.

Did overhear Snape saying that he'd be grading the seventh years first. The NEWTS are in May and he told McGonagall that he wants to make sure that the Potions scores are up to his standard. 

****

**_Make your peace with the Deity of your choice. You're screwed. _**

****

**_Sincerely,_**

D.

Fred opened a window, leant out and threw up his lunch.

The ride to London and then back home to the Burrow passed in a black and grey haze of terror. Over the next two days, their mother was at them constantly with Pepper-Up potion, herbal teas, tonics and all manner of remedies for myriad maladies, but nothing could blot out the images that appeared every time they closed their eyes.

They imagined Snape with his bottle of the legendary red ink and raven quill in hand. They could see him picking up the innocent-looking journal and opening the cover. The man's brows would curl, first in puzzlement, and then in fury as he turned the pages! Would he tear it to bits? Throw it in the fire? 

Their hearts were pounding, sweat dampened their clothing, the occasionally locked themselves in the bathroom and wept.

In the end, Snape did the most horrible thing possible – proving once and for all that the man was an absolute unmitigated sadist. The owl arrived, with the Howler and the book, and a note for their parents. 

Snape had loosed upon them The Wrath of Mum. 

Banished to their room for an indefinite period of time, Fred and George considered their options.

Running away and joining the circus was discussed and held as a possibility if things did not pan out. 

If no circus would take them, then they could broom it across the Channel and see if the French Foreign Legion – something the boys were very familiar with through contraband Muggle comic books – was recruiting. 

After their mother had her say there was a definite appeal to being sent to the arse-end of the world under an assumed name. With Snape in the picture, it looked like salvation and grace! With Mum actually meeting and talking with Snape it was a sign of the coming Apocalypse. It was a pity that the French Foreign Legion could not post them to someplace safely out of the way – like Mars.

The boys settled back to await their fate, watching the world outside the window as if they would be executed at sunrise.

"Fred?" 

"Hmm."

"What d'you think they're talking about?"

"Don't want to think about it. Just let me enjoy the last few hours of my too-short life."

The garden gnomes were still occasionally popping up to peer at the house, the ghoul had been quiet for the entire day.

"Fred?"

"Hmm?"

"What d'you think Mum with do if Snape cuts stroppy with her?"

Fred blinked. A smile lit his face. "Now that, brother mine, is something I'd give up tickets to the Cup to see."

~

TBC


	4. Double, Double, Toil and Trouble: Chapte...

Dear Readers:

Ha! Just when you thought I would never update! Thanks to Tina and Donna for the boots to the head. :) 

I hope you will enjoy. 

Sincerely,

Chaos

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

Chapter 4

~

Profesor Snape had been one of the youngest to ever be accorded his Master's credential, he was famous in the way only those who are accomplished are famous – not a household name, but given the sheer respect of one's peers. To all accounts the man was brilliant, innovative, inventive and was one of the few prodigies who came into the fullest fruit of potential as an adult.

He was also rude, sarcastic, snide and temperamental. 

A pureblood with his bits in a twist was one thing; she'd butted heads with Lucius Malfoy enough.

This was a temper tantrum – adult variety, with excellent vocabulary and grammar. 

It was not something that Molly tolerated from her children, or their friends – nor would the have it from their professors. 

Molly's temper reached snapping strength and she let fly at the first pause - at a volume normally reserved for Howlers. "I may be a simple country mum, and not a famous potions master such as yourself, Professor, but I do know a few things about the raising of children. And one of the things I do know when I see it is a temper tantrum! The last time any of my children spoke to me like that, young man, I smacked their bot and send them to bed with no desert!"

~

Severus Snape felt his eyes pop and gave a mental replay to the previous exchange. 

No one had spoken to him like that since he was a boy.

A very small boy.

A cutting response was ready to hand and he opened his mouth, only to have the woman become…

Well…

Ominous. 

One would not think that a plump, 'simple country mum' in a flowered dress could look ominous, yet there she stood - hands on hips, one eyebrow drawn in and quirked in a frown, and glaring hard enough to blister dragon hide. She looked as if the was about to catch him by the ear and drag him across the desk.

He opened his mouth again, determined to have his say and – for a moment, he really could have sworn to it – the light dimmed. 

'Simple country mum' his arse!

The hesitation was all that the redheaded witch needed. Somehow he was hustled out from behind his desk and toward the chairs by the cold fireplace.

"Now, have a seat and I'll make a pot of tea." Flames blew to life in the hearth and a kettle appeared on the stones. "Then we can discuss what to do with my scapegrace sons."

Severus supposed that in order to raise six boys, one must be rather firm of purpose. Certainly he had dealt with stroppy parents before, but this woman…!

She chained him in place with a cup – "Do you take lemon, dear?" – and secured him further with a ham sandwich _accio_'ed from Merlin knew where. There was no way to get a word in edgewise, and if he so much as thought of interrupting the chatter she would look at about to belabor him about the head with the teapot.

Shit, and Lucius was wary of Arthur? It was the distaff side he should be fretting about!

"Now, would you like some more mustard for your sandwich? Let me warm your cup a bit. Have another sandwich, you're far too thin." She conjured another – very tasty – sandwich onto his plate and picked up her own cup. "Now, about Fred and George, I agree with everything you said."

"Really, Madam, I… what?" If Minerva McGonagall popped stark naked and painted green out of a cake and sang the Slytherin Drinking Song, Severus could not have been more floored.

"I agree with everything you said. They are so bright that they are forever finding new and innovative ways to drop themselves in the soup. That said, we need to get them out of the soup." Eyeing him over the rim of her cup, she said, "I'm sure you know about all the kinds of trouble that bright and… undirected young men can find themselves in?"

Severus did a fast replay of his youth. What portions of it could this woman be reasonably expected to know?

Oh. 

THAT. 

He'd forgotten about THAT.

Purebloods could seldom manage more than a brilliant pink in the way of a blush, but that was excruciating. Severus felt as if his ears were going to burst into flame. Contrary to popular belief, Severus had not forgotten how to blush – he just very seldom had to. However THAT was enough to make even Lucius blush like a maiden fair!

The whole All-Britain Tournament weekend was mostly a blur right up until the point Severus had realized that he was wearing someone else's clothes. The details about THAT- supplied later by those who had not been so chemically divorced from their senses – were… sordid. 

Not to mention plentiful. 

Very detailed, too.

 There were even pictures – now destroyed along with the films, the negatives, and the cameras – just for good measure. Lucius had managed to talk him out of disposing of the witnesses as well for lack of places to hide all the bodies.

THAT had certainly come 'round to bite him on the arse.

And swallow his moral authority whole. 

"Are you quite sure, Madam, that you were a Gryffindor?"

Molly Weasley just gave him that mother tiger smile and patted his knee. 

~

In the end, Severus had been agreeable.

The details had been hammered out, then she and Severus – a nice man, if one with an unfortunate temper – went to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. 

The plan was set into motion.

Severus very politely offered the use of his Floo to send Molly back home. Molly accepted. He had nice enough manners when he was put to them. 

Though he was only twelve years her junior, she felt rather sorry for the poor dear. He needed to get out more – he was too pale from being immured in the dungeons, he also obviously kept odd hours and skipped meals when he was working. 

It took him a few minutes to take down some very nasty warding spells on his fireplace, and next thing Molly was stepping into her own kitchen, dusting soot from her dress. 

Arthur was sitting at the table, the guts of a Muggle fellytone spread before him. "There you are! I was thinking you'd become potions ingredients! I've made some sandwiches. The boys are still in their room and Ginny went to Diagon Alley with Sarah Bowman, they'll be back by dinner. How did your meeting with young Severus go?"

Kissing her husband, Mollie rumpled his thinning hair. Arthur kissed her soundly and pulled her into his lap – he could be a jealous old bear sometimes. There were times the silly man seemed convinced that she'd 'settled' for him. 

"Well, he's got a temper like a hornet's nest on top of a pit viper's disposition. He is brilliant, even if he forgets his manners to an appalling degree. He expects everyone to be as smart as he is and is very cranky with them when they're not, poor thing."

Arthur snorted, "Poor thing? Molly…"

"Arthur, half the howling is just a fit of temper. Pay attention, maybe pet him a little, and he's actually fairly reasonable." She'd had to mightily resist the urge to box Severus' ears a few times, reminding herself that one caught more flies with honey than dragon gall. "We weren't that far apart on what we eventually agreed upon, and though it may seem a little harsh… Arthur, he said that Fred and George are easily among his most brilliant students if they worked out half the stuff in that book on their own. I've never imagined all the things our boys have dreamed up."

With a sigh, Arthur gave in. "All right. I'll conscience it. Just please assure me that they'll not be hung against a dungeon wall by their toes."

"Not a bit of it." Sleeping in the dungeons was not the same as being hung by one's toes. 

She told Arthur all of it. Some things he agreed, some made him frown – requiring Molly to talk him 'round – and at some things he laughed outright.

"Our children with think that they've died and gone to hell," he added in a more sober tone, "Still, that's better than actually doing it. Severus has had enough of a rough ride that he might be able to steer our wayward pair right. As you think best, Molly dear."

Molly kissed her husband's bald spot. "Now put that fellytone away. I need you to help me make some chipped-chocolate cookies. We're going to have company tomorrow."

~

In the old Files Room at Hogwarts, a lone, cloaked figure braved the dust of decades.

Mary Brigid (Mollie) Mulvanerty 

**Born: May 10, 1950. Keshcarrigan, County Leitrim, Ireland.**

**Sorted: Gryffindor. September 1, 1961.**

**Graduated: June 30, 1967.**

Severus snorted, "I want a word with that Hat," and leafed unscrolled the file. 

Excellent student – her grade average was very high. The nominal amount of disciplinary record; but the 'country mum' was quite the little mischief-maker in her first three years at Hogwarts. Prefect from fifth year forward, and was Head Girl with Arthur Weasley as Head Boy in seventh year. 

And a little precocious, as she married right out of school – with William Arthur arriving eight months after graduation.

A cursory glance at her grades by subject became a little more involved. Old Phillipus Thirlwall was a bloody bastard, but an excellent Potions Master, earning top marks in his class was a real achievement. Severus had been one of the few – and so had Molly Mulvanerty.

Who became Molly Weasley and had seven children – now mostly grown.

Severus felt a smile pull at his lips when he found her final Potions essay.

He read it sitting at the table, top to bottom – all five feet of it. 

He also found a copy of her letter declining an appointment to university.

The smile lengthened. 

Snatching up the file, he stalked to the Floo. Tossing a pinch of powder into the flames, he called, "Minerva, have you a moment?"

"Of course, Severus, come ahead."

With smile in place, eyes glittering, Severus stepped through. 

~

TBC


End file.
